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Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions
Victor Hugo
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Victor Hugo
Age: 83 †
Born: 1802
Born: February 26
Died: 1885
Died: May 22
Drawer
Essayist
Illustrator
Librettist
Memoirist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Travel Writer
Writer
Besac
Victor Marie Hugo
Victor-Marie Hugo
Victor Marie
Comte Hugo
Revolution
Progress
Called
Brutalities
Revolutions
Brutality
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One cannot resist an idea whose time has come.
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Genuflection before the idol or the dollar destroys the muscles which walk and the will that moves.
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Strong and rare natures are thus created misery, almost always a stepmother, is sometimes a mother privation gives birth to power of soul and mind distress is the nurse of self-respect misfortune is a good breast for great souls.
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The learned man knows that he is ignorant.
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A breath of Paris preserves the soul.
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It is often our best friends who throw us down.
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There is no vacuum in the human heart. Certain demolitions take place, and it is well that they do, but on condition that they are followed by reconstructions.
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The earth is a great piece of stupidity.
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The cruel of heart have their own black happiness.
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There are moments when a rope's end, a pole, the branch of the tree, is life itself, and it is a frightful thing to see a living being lose his hold upon it, and fall like a ripe fruit.
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There is a spectacle more grand than the sea it is heaven there is a spectacle more grand than heaven it is the conscience.
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We do not comprehend everything, but we insult nothing.
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The need of the immaterial is the most deeply rooted of all needs. One must have bread but before bread, one must have the ideal.
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If you don't build castles in the air you won't build anything on the ground.
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Love is reducing the universe to one being.
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O darkness, the sky is a gloomy precinct Whose door you close, and whose key the soul owns And night divides itself in half, being diabolical and holy, Between Ilis, the black angel, and Christ, the starry Human Being.
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She was a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She had gold and pearls for her dowry but her gold was on her head, and her pearls were in her mouth.
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Every step which the intelligence of Europe has taken has been in spite of the clerical party.
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Our mind is enriched by what we receive, our heart by what we give.
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Monsieur' to a convict is a glass of water to a man dying of thirst at sea ignominy thirsts for respect.
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